Love beyond the mask (Whitney)

Chapter 17

to scare me. Yes, I deeply regret it, and I’m suffering the consequences. But it wasn’t as your friend

saw.”

Whitney finished, her voice breaking, tears spilling over as she stubbornly turned her head to wipe

them away.

She did not want him to see her weakness, her vulnerability.

But her fragile, tender state unwittingly tugged at Ludwik’s heartstrings.

His eyes widened with surprise, then narrowed as he licked his lips and spoke in a husky voice, “Why

didn’t you tell me sooner that you were bullied? I thought you…”

“You never gave me a chance,” she shot back, her voice filled with accusation, “Preston wasn’t the only

one who bullied me tonight. Without understanding the situation, you embarrassed me.”

Facing her accusation, Ludwik’s face tightened, “Does it hurt much?”

“What do you think?”

“Lie down. I’ll apply the ointment.”

“Don’t…”

“Don’t argue!”

He was imperious and authoritative, not to be denied, lifting her shirt and steadying her slender waist to

apply the ointment.

Whitney instinctively shivered under his touch, the moment’s intimacy overwhelming despite its medical

nature. Her face flushed as she whispered, “Mr. L, please be gentle…”

His fingers were strong and precise.

The comment caused Ludwik to pause, his gaze growing heated as he saw her skin redden at his

touch.

He swallowed hard, schooling her in a rough whisper, “Whitney, there are things you shouldn’t say

carelessly.”

“Like what?” Whitney was confused.

“Things that are inappropriate and can be misconstrued,” his voice was seductively deep.

Whitney’s ears reddened, understanding dawning on her, “I meant it literally. Be gentle. It hurts.”

“You’re getting cheeky, aren’t you?” His voice was now hoarse with irritation.

Whitney realized her words were even more inappropriate and buried her embarrassment beneath the

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As she moved, Ludwik’s hand, applying the ointment, shifted direction, accidentally gripping her side.

He leaned over her, and from his angle, her waist seemed as soft as a ribbon, as if easily foldable.

His pupils darkened, and he abruptly stood up, quelling the rising fire within him. “There, it’s done.”

“Thank you…”

Whitney curled up. The spot where his fingers had touched felt like it was on fire.

The air between them was steamy, and his breathing was heavier.

She rose, her heartbeat quickening as she pulled her shirt down, “You should get some rest now.”

“Come on, I patch you up, and that’s how you repay me?” Ludwik’s voice held a note of irritation.

“Come on, I’m just trying to avoid an awkward situation!” Whitney thought.

Not knowing how to respond, she asked, “What would you like me to do, Mr. L?”

Truth be told, he had not expected much from her–just the lack of a simple ‘thank you‘ had ruffled his

feathers. He caught sight of her innocent eyes and decided to tease, “Didn’t you say you’d dance for

me when we got back? Breaking your promise?”

Whitney’s cheeks flushed a furious shade of red.

She had said that in a moment of compromise, and he took it seriously?

Imagining herself dancing solo for him, Whitney glanced into his deep, captivating eyes and felt a

shiver run through her.

She shook her head stubbornly. “How can I dance with an injury?”

“If you can’t dance, then sing.” He had heard her soft voice before; singing must be a treat.

Ludwik sauntered over to the couch, making himself comfortable as if settling in for a show.

It looked like he would not leave until she indulged him.

Biting her lip, Whitney suggested a compromise, “Fine, but you have to close your eyes while I sing…”

He agreed with a slight curve of his lips and obediently closed his eyes.

Caught in an awkward moment, Whitney parted her lips to sing. Her voice was ethereal, almost

otherworldly, silencing the room with its purity.

But after a few lines, Ludwik’s body tensed.

He suddenly gripped her shoulders, a hint of red in his eyes, “Why do you know this song?”